Conquest moe-1

by Stewart Binns

  Hereward took two breaths, then spoke with the strained voice of a man struggling to control his rage. ‘You have until noon tomorrow. Any man still in the city by then will, by his presence, recognize Prince Edgar as the future King of England and accept my authority over all the forces loyal to the Atheling. If any man still here does not so recognize and accept, I will split him asunder with this axe, so help me God! Now go, all of you!’

  Hereward wrenched the Great Axe from the table and held it out in front of him. He glared at Cospatrick, willing him to challenge him there and then, but the Earl turned and left. The Council emptied slowly and in silence. Hereward grasped the Talisman and sighed.

  He tried to summon up Torfida’s image; he needed her blessing if he was to face what lay ahead.

  The council gathered again at midday the next day and, to everyone’s relief, all were present, including Cospatrick and Waltheof.

  Hereward stood and addressed the Council once more. ‘Prince Edgar, with your permission.’

  The Aetheling signalled his approval.

  ‘My Lords, I thank you all for returning here today. Edmund of Kent, standard-bearer of my hearthtroop, has some news that will gladden your hearts and quicken your pulses. My Lords, news has arrived from Martin Lightfoot’s corps of messengers. Eadric the Wild sends his greetings to all here and lends his unqualified support to me as leader of England’s vanguard. His attacks continue throughout Mercia and will go on until our objective is achieved. He has over a thousand men under his command, including five hundred Welsh supporters from the Princes of Powys and Gwynedd, and he looks forward to joining us whenever we choose. Prince Godwin, son of King Harold, will set sail for the South West from Dublin within the week. He promises sixty ships and three thousand men.

  ‘Finally, Edwin has returned from Denmark. We have an answer from Svein Estrithson, King of the Danes: he will set sail as soon as his fleet can be assembled, probably by August. Led by his brother, Osbjorn, a fine warrior of great repute, he will send two hundred and fifty ships and seven thousand men.’

  There was an astonished silence around the room as men looked at one another in disbelief at so much good news from all quarters. Hereward had known since dawn, when Edmund and Edwin had woken him with the reports. His fury at the discord of the night before had had its effect. Now, all factions listened intently, waiting to hear what his next move would be.

  Suddenly, without warning, the door of the hall was thrown open.

  A breathless sergeant-at-arms called out to Hereward. ‘Forgive me, sir, a messenger has just arrived at the gates of the city. Duke William is on the march and has been for three days. He moves with great speed and is already at Nottingham with three thousand cavalry.’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant.’ Hereward was impressed at the speed of William’s response, and had to think quickly. ‘Gentlemen, we are not in a position to stand against the Normans. We need more men and more time. We must conserve our strength. Martin, send for your messengers. Thank everyone for their noble support and summon all forces loyal to Edgar to assemble in the Forest of Arden on Midsummer’s Day for an attack on Nottingham. There we will wait for the Danes before we advance on London and the South. Until the agreed rendezvous, we will become like the men of the forest: unseen and unheard to all but ourselves.’

  It was Edgar the Atheling who asked the obvious question. ‘But what of William’s advancing army?’

  ‘Let him advance; we will be long gone by the time he gets here.’

  Unable to contain himself, Cospatrick bellowed at Hereward. ‘Gone! But what of the people of York?’

  ‘I am sorry, my Lord Cospatrick, but we have no choice. If we face William and three thousand of his heavy cavalry, he will destroy us. It will be the end for our cause.’

  ‘But left to the Bastard’s mercy, it could mean death for thousands in York.’

  ‘What else would you have me do, my Lord?’

  Cospatrick stared at Hereward forlornly, reluctant to accept his decision, but knowing that he was right.

  ‘I suggest that we are all gone by midday tomorrow. The people of the city and its surroundings must be warned and all who can leave should do so; for the rest, we can only pray for them. Return to your strongholds. I will send regular messages to all of you.

  ‘Until we meet again in Mercia on Midsummer’s Day, have faith in our cause, stay strong and keep your resolve.’

  24. Midsummer Madness

  Led by William himself and several of his most able lieutenants, including William Fitzbern, Gilbert of Ghent and William Malet, the Norman army arrived in York only forty-eight hours after the English rebels had dispersed. Furious to find that his opponents had vanished, he immediately sent out squadrons to hunt them down and began to build a towering motte to impose his will on the population. However, on this occasion, he refrained from meting out his usual draconian punishments to the people of the city.

  Cospatrick was not so fortunate. Having not met anyone as rapacious as William before, his force dawdled on its route back to Durham and was caught in the open near Thirsk by several Norman squadrons. Cospatrick got away, but most of his men were ruthlessly cut down, their heads brought back to York in baskets and hurled into the streets as a warning to the inhabitants.

  Two days later, a similar fate befell a large group of King Malcolm’s Scots. They had meandered into the Vale of Pickering in search of plunder and were set upon in their camp at dawn. Most of them were killed and their severed heads were added to the morbid collection of English skulls littering York’s thoroughfares. When, a few days later, the Normans granted permission, the monks and nuns of York collected more than 1,000 heads for burial. Fortunately, Waltheof, Siward Bjorn and the other Saxon earls from the South had accompanied Edgar the Atheling and the remaining Scots on a more direct route northwards and had made it to Durham safely.

  ‘Stupid! Utterly stupid!’ Hereward paced up and down in rage and disbelief when news reached him of the shambles of the withdrawal from York. ‘I told them to melt away! It’s a disaster – a stupid, reckless disaster. No man will ever cross me again; no man will ever countermand my order, or ignore my instructions. No one!’

  A decision was made to break the forward camp at Skipton and return to Clitheroe. Einar was commanded to send some men up Pen Hill. Hereward’s instructions were clear: ‘Make sure they have good eyes and are not afraid of whatever spirits you say live up there. Tell them that they must return immediately if there are any signs of Norman movement. If the danger is imminent, they must light a beacon.’

  During the days that followed, Hereward called another meeting of his senior warriors. A messenger had arrived from York with news that the city was calm. Malet, Ghent and Fitzsbern remained, but the Duke had returned to Winchester for his Easter crown-wearing.

  Hereward opened the meeting with a bold change of plan. ‘Gentlemen, William’s audacity has surprised us once again. This, combined with the ill-discipline of our forces, leads me to conclude that a different strategy is required. We will stay here for the time being and begin an exhaustive training regime. If we are to be let down by our comrades again, we must have an elite force here. Contrary to what was agreed at the Council, we are going to split our attacks. The squabbles between us in York made it clear that, for the time being, acting as one army is going to be well-nigh impossible.

  ‘I think we can rely on Eadric the Wild, and we can certainly depend on Waltheof and Siward Bjorn and the other Saxon earls, so the Atheling must stay with them. Send word to Waltheof of our plans and be adamant that, when he next comes south, he must insist that the Scots stay at home – unless he can rely on them totally. The rendezvous in the Forest of Arden is cancelled. Our new strategy is to wait for news of the Danes. When they are sighted, Waltheof, Siward and the others are to come south to York with the Atheling. We will go south to meet Eadric at Chester. At the same time, we will encourage Harold’s sons to launch another challenge in the South West. We will th
en be in effective control of the North, with William being harassed in the South West. If Edgar then joins forces with the Danes and declares himself King at York, that will entice William to attack. Edgar and the Danes will be ready for him and, with Eadric’s help, we will move quickly across Mercia to block the Duke’s retreat south. Your comments, gentlemen.’

  Everyone agreed that, under the circumstances, it was a clever plan, typical of Hereward’s burgeoning leadership.

  ‘Edwin, you must make another trip to King Svein’s court in Denmark. Take some of Martin’s messengers with you, so that I know every move the Danes make. They must do two things. Firstly, their fleet must appear in the South, near the Thames Estuary, or in Kent. It must look like they are trying to find a place to launch an invasion, and they must send out raiding parties to harass the local Normans. That will persuade William to despatch men eastwards and southwards, and fewer men will be available for his northern expedition. The second task for the Danes is to destroy the Norman fleet. In every port from the Isle of Wight to Shoeburyness, they must burn and sink all Norman vessels they find. This will cut the Normans off from their homeland, which is vital if we’re to have any success in moving on the South.’

  Everyone looked at Hereward in admiration. He had formulated an audacious new strategy that, if all went well and everyone played their part, could have William on the run and unable to escape to Normandy.

  If the English then rose en masse, William would be finished.

  Einar spoke for all of them. ‘It is daring and it is cunning. Congratulations, Hereward.’

  ‘Thank you, Einar. Call the men together. Alphonso, the training becomes your responsibility. We start tomorrow; make us suffer, make us think and make us ruthless.’

  The days passed quickly. Alphonso was a master of intelligent regimes; he organized weapons competitions, assault courses, tests of navigation and horsemanship. He believed that irregular warfare should be undertaken by small groups of equals and insisted that all join in, regardless of status. When in training, there were no ranks and everyone spoke to one another by first name.

  The routine of training was interrupted only once, at the end of June, when a messenger appeared with sad news for everyone close to England’s cause.

  Edith Swan-Neck had been given permission by William to return to her family home at Nazeing in Essex. She went under heavy guard and called at Waltham Abbey to pray. But by the time she reached Nazeing, she was ill with a fever. Only two days later, she was dead. Her family was convinced she had been poisoned on orders from the Duke. Fearing that the Normans might realize Harold was interred there, the family chose not to bury her next to him at Waltham, but in the family plot at Nazeing Church.

  Training resumed early the next morning, as usual. Hereward had ridden off with Einar well before dawn to survey from Pen Hill the vast forested landscape of the western Pennines. Over 1,800 feet above sea level, there was a remarkable view from its summit. The great expanse of Bowland Forest lay to the north and beyond that was Lancaster, the last major English bastion before the northern wilderness and the lawless Scottish borders. To the west, the land fell away to the Irish Sea, just visible in the distance. To the south and east, rising above the forests, stretched the endless rolling moorland of the Pennines. Local folklore claimed that, when York was burned to the ground during the Viking invasions many years earlier, the glow could be seen from Pen Hill.

  Just after midday, Ingigerd and Maria appeared, clambering up the steep track towards the summit. They had decided to bring food for the men. But, more than that, they had been concerned about Hereward. It was Midsummer’s Eve, a special day in the old religion and, aware that news of Edith’s death had arrived at such a symbolic time, they wondered how much it had disturbed him. Often, they had discussed whether he secretly yearned for a consort with whom to share the burden of leadership. Could Edith have fulfilled that role? They would have made an extraordinary couple as England’s Regent and Consort, despite the opprobrium of those who might have resented their humble origins.

  After they had eaten, Einar, guessing what the women were up to, took the sentries off to patrol around the summit.

  Ingigerd spoke first. ‘Hereward, why don’t you take a woman?’

  He smiled at them both. As a soldier, he admired their strategy – a full-frontal assault, no initial skirmishes, no feints.

  ‘Do you think I’m in need of one?’

  Maria’s tone was softer but her approach was just as direct. ‘It is a long time since Torfida died, and you carry such a huge burden for all of us and for England. Wouldn’t it be a comfort to have someone to confide in and open your heart to?’

  Before Hereward could respond, Ingigerd resumed. ‘Aren’t you lonely?’

  ‘My dearest friends, you are very thoughtful and I appreciate your kindness. The truth is, there have been only two women in my life that I wanted to spend the rest of my days with – and both are dead. When I was no more than a boy, Gythin was my first love. Her death in terrible circumstances was the catalyst that began the extraordinary events that have shaped my life. Then there was Torfida, the amazing, beautiful Torfida we all loved. She was my one true love; no one could fill Torfida’s place in my heart.’

  They both put their arms around him.

  Maria had tears in her eyes. ‘But, Hereward, what of the future? When all this is over, what will become of you?’

  ‘I don’t know what will become of any of us. England is in a perilous state and we are facing almost insurmountable odds. We will need great good fortune to be successful.’

  ‘Will we ever see St Cirq Lapopie again?’

  ‘I sincerely hope so. My greatest wish is to make England secure, oversee Edgar’s ascendency to the throne and then retire to France to watch Gunnhild and Estrith grow into women and produce grandchildren for me to spoil.’

  ‘And will you live out those days with a beloved you can call your own?’

  ‘Who knows? First, let me deal with the small matter of England’s future.’

  Ingigerd and Maria realized that Hereward was focused on one thing only. He was a man of remarkable conviction and strength. He had always had a warrior’s spirit but, since recovering from Torfida’s death, and following his journey to meet Rodrigo Diaz, he had also added profound wisdom to his many other qualities.

  Hereward brought their discussion to a close. ‘Let’s find Einar and go back to camp to see the girls.’

  The four of them began the steep descent to their waiting horses. As they did so, they caught sight of a small plume of smoke rising from the tiny hamlet of Downham, nestling in the shadow of Pen Hill.

  ‘Einar, in all the time we’ve been here, not a single local man has come to us and asked to join our cause. They must know of the peril that is only two days’ ride away in York?’

  ‘Yes, they know, but they pray it won’t come their way. York is another world for them; so is Lancaster. As for Winchester, it could be in the Holy Roman Empire for all they know. You can’t expect them to rush to our side when they don’t have the strength to wield a weapon properly. Don’t judge them too harshly; it’s not so very different throughout much of England. Remember all the earls, merchants and burghers who have already bowed to the Duke.’

  ‘That’s our problem. The Normans have ambition and a steely resolve, made stronger by the riches of conquest. Most of the English, be they Saxon, Dane, or Celt, already have the look of a beaten people and are resigned to their fate.’

  ‘Hereward, how do you keep going with such grave doubts?’

  Before answering, Hereward reflected for a while, touching the Talisman as he did so. ‘My good friend, I have come to understand that all a man can do is follow his own path. Whatever his destiny, he will only find it by being brave in the choices he makes. Somehow, at the end of all this, there is an outcome that will be determined by circumstances playing themselves out like a gigantic game of chess. We are only four hundred men and there are perha
ps no more than a few thousand we can rely on in the whole of England. But the game is not William’s yet; there will be weaknesses in the Norman position, and we have to find them. I don’t know how many Normans hold this land – perhaps fifteen or twenty thousand – but they rule only with the support of many Englishmen. That will change if William makes an error of judgement. Tactically, I’d say we’ve lost too many pieces, especially our pawns and knights. Now our Queen has gone, but our King still lives – Edgar, our rightful heir. Our defence is still solid in our wild northern stronghold. If we keep our nerve, William may yet make a mistake, and those who have submitted to him will think again. Our four thousand will quickly become forty thousand; then it will be a different endgame.’

  ‘Hereward, you have become a wise man as well as a great warrior. You are England’s last hope, and we are proud to follow you.’

  Hereward did not respond. He put his hand on Einar’s shoulder, then hurried away down the slope, once again deep in thought, leaving his friends to follow in his wake.

  The summer of arduous training at Clitheroe Hill continued for many weeks without interruption. No word came from the lookouts on Pen Hill, and the warning beacon was never lit.

  The news everyone had been praying for finally arrived on a gloriously sunny day in the third week of August 1069.

  A messenger from Edwin reported that the Danish fleet had left Jutland and sailed through the Skagerrak at the end of July. By early August, it had begun marauding along the south coast of England, just as Hereward had asked. Raiding parties had attacked Dover, Sandwich, Norwich and Ipswich; the Norman fleet was being systematically destroyed. As King Svein had promised, there were nearly 250 ships in a fleet commanded by his brother, Osbjorn, and two of his sons, Harold and Cnut. Christian, the Bishop of Aarhus, was present to make the cause a holy one, and the war party included opportunists and mercenaries from the Baltic and most of northern Europe.